


Something Blue (His Eyes)

by tessdebelle



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, Made of Honor - Freeform, Movie AU, kind of anti-andrew garner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:24:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessdebelle/pseuds/tessdebelle
Summary: Phil and Melinda have been best friends for twenty years when Phil realizes how he feels about her. Now all he has to do is stop her from getting married to the wrong guy. Made of Honor AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So after tonight’s episode I decided to post this now rather than later, because we need distractions. Blame the Philinda chat, specifically elle-oh-you (marvelelle on Tumblr) for encouraging this. Based loosely on the movie Made of Honor. Please note that if you’re an Andrew fan I don’t intend to be nice to him. But this isn’t a fic about Andrew, who I have nothing against, and he is going to be a little OOC for plot reasons. Don’t like, don’t read. This is going to be a three part fic, plus epilogue.

 

 _“You’re not Audrey.”_

_“Should I be offended?”_

_Phil chuckled nervously. He was on a first date with a girl from one of his classes and her – albeit gorgeous – roommate had answered the door instead. He smiled nervously. “Audrey?” The roommate asked. He tried to glance in and saw Audrey getting ready, wearing a pink dress and heels for their date. He smiled feeling nervous._

_“Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Her roommate said teasingly. “And you…” She turned back to look at him. “Lose the tie. You look like some kind of secret agent or something.”_  
  


 

* * *

 

 

_-_

_The next few weeks were spent with Phil coming to Audrey and Melinda’s dorm, and the longer he spent there the more the two realized that they had a lot in common, and since he was a history major and she an art history major with a minor in photography. They began sitting together in class and studying together. He and Audrey only dated for a few months, and broke up when she transferred to a prestigious music school to study, even though they still talked once in a while._

_But he kept up with Melinda, and soon they were inseparable. They did most of their work together, he dragged her out to late night showings of Captain America, she was there for him when his mother died. They both graduated and went on to different jobs; him as an archeologist and her as a museum curator. Their jobs made it so they didn’t need to be too far apart – he mostly stayed out of the true field of archeology, so they were able to see each other. They both briefly dated other people, but neither was in a committed relationship for long – they always had each other, but that had been okay. Twenty years later and they were still best friends bordering on forty years old._

_-_

“Six _months?”  
_

Phil winced. He didn’t like it any more than she did, but his boss insisted he go on this dig and he knew it was a great opportunity. This was a lifetime chance to go to a country that began so many different cultures and was the center of three different faiths, but he hated that such a great opportunity meant being away from his best friend for so long. 

He nodded, sighing. “Six months. I leave next week.” He said. “We’ll call though, and talk. Won’t be so bad.”

She glared at him only half playfully. “How many hours apart are Israel and Philadelphia?” She asked him crossing her arms knowingly.

“…Seven.” He said, wincing. “Sorry.”

She sighed and he smiled, knowing she couldn’t stay mad at him for something like this, even if he’d avoided telling her. He hadn’t wanted to upset her or make her stressed. “We’ll figure it out. I can stay up late to call you.” He said, even though he knew that would be hard on both of them.

“Yeah. Come on – I’ll help you pack.” She said. “You can barely even organize your sock drawer, let alone a suitcase.”

-

Phil spent most of the plane ride on and off napping, watching Captain America and reading over the notes for their first dig site, though he couldn’t quite focus. He landed at nine in the morning and after a quick change of clothes due to the heat called her to tell her he landed. 

 _“Phil?”_ He heard a groggy voice respond over the phone. He attempted to calculate what time it was there – he had slept on the plane so he wasn’t so groggy he realized he should have checked the time.

“Shit. I totally forgot about the time difference.” He said softly. “What time is it there?” He asked. 

He heard her pause and couldn’t help but smile. She was cute when she was sleepy. _“Two AM.”_ She said. _“I have to be up in three hours to do Tai Chi.”_  

“Or you could sleep in for once.”

He could hear her smile. He was constantly telling her she needed to sleep. _“I’ll call you when I’m more awake. Goodnight.”_ She said, sounding adorably grumpy before hanging up.

-

Getting his hands dirty was great, Phil found, but it didn’t do well for talking to Melinda. Most of the day hours he was working, as was she, and they couldn’t find a time to talk. Several times he’d picked up the phone, wanting to call her but remembering time zones or how she had breakfast with her mother on Sundays or he would call and she’d text him, _“sorry, can’t talk right now. miss you”._

It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends. Clint, Mack and Fitz were all on his crew to survey the dig sites. He and Clint were both archeologists with different focuses, Mack was security for the dig, and Fitz did tech. But Melinda was his _best_ friend. 

“Phil. She’s at work. Quit staring at your phone.” Clint said, dusting off a potential piece. Phil sighed, tucking away his phone and wiping at his forehead. 

“Easy for you to say. Your best friend is here with you.” He said. Natasha was the team’s language expert, translating whenever it was necessary. 

“That might be because I’m married to her.” Clint said chuckling. “Maybe if you finally made a move on May you’d get to take her along.”

“Me and May? No, it’s not like that.” Phil said, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest at the very idea that he couldn’t identify. Sure, back in college he might have thought… Something, but that was college.

Mack snorted behind them. “Coulson, I haven’t even met the girl and I know you’re in love with her.” He said.

“Why would you think that?” He asked. 

Mack shrugged. “Maybe because you talk about her all the time and get this weird look in your eyes whenever she brings you coffee. And she feels the same way – she brings you coffee even though she never drinks it.

“For the first five years I knew you, I thought you two were married. Simmons wanted to invite you on a double date.” Fitz added. _  
_

Mack and Clint laughed as Phil wiped his hands on his pants going for a bottle of water. Sure, he’d had questions like that before, but now he realized just how attached he was. He didn’t want to be far from his phone so they could talk, found himself with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep staying up late calling her. Several times he’d wake up having fallen asleep in front of his laptop talking to her. He felt a pang of guilt. Had he been taking advantage of their friendship over the last twenty years? Yes, they were best friends, but he had had no idea how much he needed her until suddenly he didn’t see her daily.

He had his back to the team, who were no longer working and instead looking at him, before Clint said, “Fitz. You owe me ten bucks.” 

“Did you make a bet on me?” Coulson asked, trying to distract himself from the growing realization. The more he thought about it they more he knew that they were right. When he tried to think about his future, a marriage, she was what he saw. He couldn’t picture that without her.

“I told you he’d be pissed.” Mack said. 

He wasn’t pissed at them, though. He was pissed at himself. _How had it taken him this long to realize it?_  

- 

The final month of being away from her, knowing how he felt, had been painful until he threw himself into deciding how to tell her. Because he needed to – now that he realized how he felt he couldn’t just let her go and continue as they were.

He planned everything as much as possible. She had never liked him in suits so he wore a simple jacket and shirt instead, and got her a set of earrings as a returning gift. He called ahead to have a personal bouquet made. Made reservations at her favorite restaurant. Everything would be perfect and he’d tell her how he felt and, if he was lucky, if his friends were right, she’d say yes. They might both be forty, but they could probably still have children, they’d both always wanted kids. It just took him a long time to realize he wanted them _with her_. Every instant of their relationship was suddenly colored in a new light and he didn’t know how he didn’t realize it.

He was nervous and excited the entire flight home. She’d called him just before he’d gotten on the plane so they could make plans for dinner, and she’d told him she had something important to tell him. He wondered if, during their time apart, maybe she’d realized her feelings too. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had realized how they felt lately. He was practically bouncing in his seat while Clint was trying to sleep next to him, ready to see her. To tell her everything.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil gets his hopes up and they fall flat. And then dresses are tried on.

Phil straightened his jacket, holding the bouquet he’d gotten specially for tonight - white roses. He remembered how she had always liked white roses and hoped she still did. The place was nice – quiet, new, posh. The perfect place, he felt, to tell his best friend that he loved her, and this was the kind of thing he wanted for her – to give her flowers and a nice dinner and make her happy.

The hostess pointed him towards a table in the corner and he headed there, feeling hopeful. The table was secluded in the back, which was good – he didn’t think she would be one for kissing in a super public place, but perhaps she would let him kiss her tonight if they weren’t so exposed.

She looked beautiful tonight – she so rarely wore heels, but with them her legs went on for miles. He traveled up them with his eyes to a sparkly silver dress with – he gulped – a slit up the skirt, the fabric wrapping around her thin waist to accentuate every feature. It dipped low into her cleavage, and if he could he would kiss the designer of that damn dress.

That was, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one admiring them. Or, apparently, the only one at dinner with her.

Next to her, one hand over hers, a man he didn’t recognize was talking to her, smiling. She smiled back. He was tall and polished and looked so… Professional. They were sitting close together in the booth, and across from it was a chair that appeared to be for him.

He quickly went up to the coat room, found a trash can, and threw out the bouquet. He had been delusional getting his hopes up. 

He returned to the table, acting as if he was only seeing the two of them for the first time that night, and smiled as Melinda hugged him loosely.

Seeing her with someone else had caused something deep within him to ache. But at least she was smiling, so there was something close to a bright side.

“Phil, I want you to meet someone.” Melinda said. He looked to the other man – the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. He could never compete with that.

“Andrew Garner, PhD.” The man said, standing taller than him and offering a hand to shake. Phil shook his hand loosely.

A doctor. A doctor. Seriously?

“Phil Coulson.” He said.

The other man nodded, placing a hand on Melinda’s lower back; a gesture for her to sit down. Phil forced a smile; clenching and unclenching his jaw. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Melinda talks about you nonstop.”

He smiled. At least he had that going for him.

Melinda looked at him as if she was worried and he did understand why – he tended to get protective, even before realising his feelings about her, and up until now he hadn’t been able to identify it as jealousy as well. “Andrew and I met a few months ago at that coffee shop on 3rd.”

“You hate coffee.”

Melinda nodded, glaring at him. He sighed. She wanted him to be nice. But to be fair, her last boyfriend had only lasted a month and had been a complete and utter asshole.

“I’ve been in town from California for the last five months for a business trip. A study was going on that requested me, which is how I met Melinda.” Andrew explained. “I’m going home in a few days, though.” He said, looking at Melinda.

That gave him hope. After all, long distance relationships never worked out, or at least rarely did. He could wait. He’d waited twenty years after all. And she was giving Andrew that said look that was so fake. Melinda didn’t emote that much – that was something he liked about her, that her feelings were internal and you only really knew what she was thinking if you truly knew her. Which, clearly, Andrew didn’t.

“Which is why we’re getting married.”

Phil was pretty sure that at that moment, his eyes bulged almost comically out of his head. “M-married?”

This could not be happening.

She was supposed to be with him. He had never been more sure of anything in his life.

She giggled. Melinda May did not giggle. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. Some kind of mad scientist’s idea of a joke. “It’s rushed, I know. But Andrew proposed a week ago.” She looked back at Phil, who was still stunned. He wanted her to support this. He was her best friend.

He felt like his whole world was falling apart. No, his whole world was marrying someone else. She was his whole world and she was getting married to someone else.

“Y-you’ve known each other five months.” He said.

“Phil. I’m almost forty. There isn’t exactly a reason to wait on this.”

He wanted to interrupt because there was a reason to wait on this, because he loved her, but…

“You being happy is all that matters to me. You deserve that.” He said, even though it felt like a blade through the heart to have that not be with him. She deserved everything.

“Thank you.” She said, and it lessened the sting of the knowledge that he would never get to be with her somewhat.

Phil was settling in and looking at the wine list – he really needed to get drunk – when Andrew left the table to make a phone call – and how could Melinda be so important to him if he was willing to miss precious time with her to make a phone call? – and Melinda turned to him. “There is one other thing, Phil.”

Setting down the menu, he looked at her the worst possible idea – her pregnant with someone else’s child – immediately coming to mind. Clearly it showed on his face, because she smacked his arm. “Not that.” She said. “Phil, would you be my maid of honor?”

He nearly choked at that, coughing. “Melinda, I hate to tell you, but I don’t exactly have the parts for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Man of Honor. You know I’d punch you if I wasn’t your best woman at your wedding.”

Of course, what he didn’t say was that without it being Melinda he married, it was unlikely he’d get married at all.

“I… That’s something I need to think about.” He said honestly. “It would be a little… Weird. But you know I’m always here if you need me.” He said settling his hand over hers and squeezing. No matter how much it hurt him, he would be there for her.

-

“Please tell me you’re calling to say you just had fantastic sex with Melinda May. And no, I don’t want the dirty details.”

Phil dropped into an armchair in his apartment, his phone in his hand to talk to Clint. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but no.” He said.

“Did she reject you? Did you forget the flowers? Please tell me you didn’t chicken out, Coulson.”

He rubbed his hand over his face.

“She’s getting married.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and then, “I’m coming over.”

-

A bottle of scotch (Haig, the bottle he’d bought in case they’d ended up back at his apartment tonight, clearly it had been a case of wishful thinking) sat beside Phil, already half of it gone by the time Clint knocked on his front door.

“It’s open.” He called out, not bothering to get up as he took another long swig of the drink. It no longer burned his throat. He was numb.

Clint came into his apartment, already sitting and pouring himself a drink. Phil ran a hand over his face. Once Clint had sat, drink in his hand, and settled in, he pointed a finger at Phil. “Okay. Now. Explain.”

Phil went into details on Melinda’s fiancée numbly, the only way to remove himself from the situation without getting upset. He barely knew the man but could tell he was ten times the man Phil was – strong and impressive and didn’t spend most of his days digging in the dirt. He wasn’t dorky or nerdy and Melinda wanted to be with him.

“I would laugh if I didn’t feel so bad for you.” Clint said, leaning back in the chair. “You gonna do it?”

He let out a harsh laugh. “Are you kidding? I don’t even think I can handle going to the wedding.”

Clint set down his glass. “Nope. You’re going to this wedding, as her maid of honor. And you’re gonna be great at it.”

Phil looked up in alarm. “She’s making a mistake. You know it, I know it, the only one who doesn’t is her. So you can stop her from making this mistake. You waited twenty years to finally get your head out of your ass – now she has to.”

“You do realize she would kill you if you said that, right?”

-

He’d called up Melinda to agree to this, even though part of him still thought Clint’s plan was crazy. What did he have that Andrew didn’t? Captain America trading cards?

He used the key she’d given him to get into his apartment, coming in with bridal magazines he’d picked up for her, and was quickly faced with the sight of Melinda making out with Andrew.

This wasn’t a light peck or anything. It was full on, face sucking, and he felt like he was going to be sick, and frustrated that he couldn’t hear the sounds Melinda was making over Andrew, who was kissing her almost obnoxiously. It killed him to see that – if he hadn’t taken so long he might’ve been the one doing that. If it was him he wouldn’t kiss like Andrew, though. Andrew kissed sloppily and wasn’t clutching her waist, he was holding her like letting her go was an option. Why would anyone want to let Melinda May go?

Phil never would. He would have one hand buried in her hair feeling how soft it was beneath his palm, and the other would hold onto her waist, tugging her as close as possible so as to keep her with him. He’d never stop. But he might not get the chance.

He waited for them to notice him but the two of them were too distracted to see him until he cleared his throat the two looks up from shoving their tongues down each other’s throats as if seeing him for the first time and if he’d seen her right Melinda May was blushing.

This couldn’t be the real Melinda. There had been red flags everywhere. Her smiles were simple and these didn’t reach her eyes. He’d seen Melinda really laugh and he’d seen her pretend, and this… This was the latter.

He was more determined than ever. Even if she wouldn’t be with him he couldn’t let her make the mistake of marrying someone she was faking being with.

-

Phil and Melinda walked into the bridal store, and he could tell they both felt a little ridiculous. This was a completely different Melinda from the one who had been with Andrew in her apartment before he’d flown home to plan their wedding in the two weeks they had before it, because for some reason they’d decided it needed to happen soon.

A blonde saleswoman named Bobbi came to get Melinda settled in. “And you must be her fiancée. This whole new thing of men coming to help the bride choose a dress is a little weird to me, but sweet.” She said.

“Oh, erm… No, I’m just a close friend.” He said, wishing that weren’t true.

The other woman just shrugged and left, leaving him to sit and wait while Bobbi brought Melinda dresses. They were all gaudy – layers of lace that were stiff and made it hard for her to move comfortably, and too much for her relatively casual wedding.

Melinda seemed determined to find a dress with poofy sleeves and lace and tulle that she didn’t look like a marshmallow in. He, in turn, was frustrated because he knew exactly what she would look perfect in. “Can I bring one in?” He asked Bobbi, who shrugged, seemingly frustrated.

He searched for the dress he’d seen only for a second and pulled it out, this one made of a soft chiffon fabric draping all over it and a thin metal belt.

“Try this.” He said offering her the dress.

“Phil, this isn’t really –“

“Just try it, Lin.” He said, calling her by the affectionate nickname only he ever really used.

He heard her sigh but slip into the dress, opening the door and turning for him to zip it for her, his thumb skimming over her soft skin and he could swear he felt her shivering. He zipped it all the way up, and she turned around and was suddenly the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Her dark hair fell in soft waves on her shoulders, the dress accentuating her thin waist while moving to curve around her hips. She looked like some kind of Goddess meant for worship.

She walked past him to the three-way mirror and stood on the raised platform to look at herself. He came up behind her. “I think this is the best one yet.”

“Andrew probably won’t like it.”

Phil was damn near tempted to tell her that Andrew could go screw himself, but he held his tongue. “It’s not all about Andrew, Lin. If everything goes right you only get married once – wear what you want.” He said, his hands settling at his hips looking at them together in the mirror before she pulled away. “I think I’d better try on the next one.”


	3. Chapter 3

****“This is impossible.”

Melinda fell back onto her bed, letting the notepad and pen fall onto it with her, frustrated. Phil smiled sadly. They’d been working together on her vows for a while, since she had never been great with conveying emotions through words and wanted his help, but it had been four hours since they’d started and it had become painfully obvious just how little Melinda knew her fiancée.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” He asked, picking up the pad of paper and grimacing at the less than poetic words in her neat script. “Okay, it’s pretty bad.”

She looked up, glaring at him. Phil smirked. “Think you could do better? What would you say?” She asked crossing her arms, and if he didn’t know her as well as he did he would have thought she was truly angry. He pondered over it for a second, but couldn’t visualize anyone else he’d be with, at the end of that aisle, other than her. He would tell her how he felt about her, in the simplest way possible. Somehow he thinks the lengthy novel he could write filled with just things he loved about her wouldn’t be appropriate for such a setting. “I always want her by my side.” He began. “She puts up with me when I’m being an idiot, when I’m being a complete nerd, and she’s always there for me when I fall apart. She’s the only person I can truly be myself with.” It was true. He loved Melinda and even with this wedding he knew there was no chance that would change. “If she left I would feel like a piece of me was gone as well, and I don’t think I could ever recover from that. She’s one of the strongest people I know. But I’m not afraid of her. What I am afraid of is the intensity of how much she means to me. She means a lot to me... She means everything to me.”

The words fell out of him, having come up with all of that as he tried to consider how he felt about her, really. He looked up to see her looking shocked and passed her the notepad, avoiding her gaze. “But don’t steal that one. That’s mine. Copyright Phillip J Coulson.”

She chuckled, taking the notepad from him. “Whoever you’re planning to say that to, Phil… She’s one lucky girl.”

-

How could anyone be comfortable with a scrap of lace riding up their ass half of the night? This was the first question that came to mind as Melinda dragged him into the fanciest lingerie store in the mall, explaining that her cousin Daisy was busy, her god-daughter Jemma was out of town, and Natasha would end up getting her something a domme would wear.

After a moment to visualize this, Phil decided there wasn’t anything wrong with Melinda wearing something like that.

He felt himself growing redder and redder by the second as women – and a few men – looked through the store, holding up pieces of lace that didn’t so much as resemble something remotely functional. He kept his eyes on the floor as a store attendant spoke to them, and for the second time assuming Phil was a boyfriend or fiancée. He wished. No, he was just the friend who was being forced to see the woman he was in love with try on her wedding night lingerie, another painful reminder of all that he couldn’t have.

Melinda went into a fitting room to get measured as Phil sat on a bench in the back, taking out his phone and sending a text to Clint.

_I am in hell._

After a second thought, he added a picture of a rack filled with fancy corsets and what seemed like some kind of stocking.

Clint texted him back immediately with, _Can I join you in hell? Looks fun_ , before sending a few seconds later, _Nat says no_.

Phil rolled his eyes. Clint had always been whipped and only now was he truly understanding it.

“Phil?” He looked up, not quite having noticed Melinda had come out of the fitting room, and had been unable to mentally prepare himself for the sight of her.

Even though what she wore was completely not something he would have thought Melinda May would even take a second glance at, all complicated corset and stockings and garters in a matching cream, he was practically salivating, trying to run his eyes over all of her at once. The whole thing was made of a delicate flimsy silk and lace and he could practically hear the sound it would make tearing beneath his hands, or how with the garter belt he could take off her panties and leave the stockings on while he –

“Phil? Earth to Coulson!”

He shook his head, trying not to get too wrapped up in his thoughts. “It’s… Nice.” He said, finding himself hoarse and cleared his throat.

She crossed her arms and he gulped – this only succeeded in pushing her breasts up higher and making them look larger, and all he wanted was to tear the damn thing off. “Nice?” She asked, looking frustrated, and somehow even with the sexy lingerie and a goddamn pair of heels that he would forever fantasize over, she was strangely adorable. “Phil, I don’t want to look nice on my wedding night.”

This, of course, led his mind straight to fantasies about a wedding night with him that he really shouldn’t have been imagining. But, if he had been thinking about what was right, he probably wouldn’t have been trying to stop her wedding. “You look beautiful, Melinda.” He said.

Even if it was all for for Andrew, and not for him, he still had the chance to see her like this, to see her happy.

Maybe that would be enough.

-

“So, has Andrew had any luck looking for a job here?”

Phil was trying to make small-talk, and, apparently, failing. He often spoke to fill the silence, could chatter on for hours, and tended to go off topic easily. But now, Melinda was looking at him like he wasn’t making any sense.

“Is he transferring to another university?” He asked.

“I guess I forget to tell you.”

She stopped him in the street, putting a hand on his chest to keep him from continuing on. The crowds were busy but she pulled him to the side, closer to a building. “Phil… After the wedding, I’m not coming back.” She said.

He stared at her. He must have misunderstood. Surely she couldn’t mean…

“Well. I’m coming back so Andrew can help me pack up my apartment, and I’ll probably visit my mother once or twice a year. But I’m applying for jobs at a museum near his family’s vineyard. Andrew couldn’t just pick up and leave his work.”

This couldn’t be happening. He could handle her marrying someone else if she was still his best friend, even if it meant hearing about how her wedding plans were going, being her “Maid of Honor”, standing by her as she married another man.  Being there as she started a family, a home she shared with someone else, children running around. , He would still have the opportunity to see her every day. Maybe make her smile and have lunch with her and with that he could even accept being known as ‘Uncle Phil’ rather than ‘Daddy’.

But not losing her. He didn’t think he couldn’t handle that.

He knew that he couldn’t.

He was stunned into silence when her phone rang and she answered it. Andrew, of course. She looked at him warily but he tried to push it away. Maybe he could handle it if she was happy.

Maybe.

-

If Phil thought he’d hated Andrew, meeting Andrew’s parents actually made him feel sorry for the man..

They’d spent the last twenty minutes at dinner discussing all the things Melinda did wrong (how could Melinda May do anything wrong? She was perfect), and talking about how she should give up her work so she in order to raise their future grandchildren and how she didn’t smile enough.

“Smile dear, you look like you’re planning a funeral, not a wedding.”

And, the worst thing was Andrew didn’t say a thing to stop them -  he didn’t even seem to care, far too engrossed in his dinner. It was steak and potatoes - how bloody fascinating could it be? Phil tried to at first but one look from Melinda stopped him, and instead he found himself watching her over their meal, noticing the nearly indistinguishable amount of shame in her expression. She said nothing, but he knew his best friend, and knew it bothered her.

After their meal that night, they went out for a bachelorette party, which he’d somehow been convinced to attend. Thankfully, he was mostly just sitting in the back and messing with his phone, feeling awkward amongst the squealing and giggling.

“Why do I feel like the only one who feels more uncomfortable with this than I am is you?”

Phil looked up from the drink in his hand - wine that he wasn’t particularly a fan of - the fact that it was from Andrew’s family’s vineyard didn’t help matters - and smirked. “Bring me Captain America themed strippers. Maybe my opinion will change.” Because only Melinda’s cousin Daisy would throw her a bachelorette party with strippers.

“I think I saw a bottle of Haig somewhere around here. We could sneak off, have a drink.”

He nodded. “Sounds much better than standing around here.” He said, smirking. She walked off towards the bar, scanning the shelves for the bottle, and he smiled lazily, just watching her ass moving back and forth - thank god for leggings - before shaking his head. She was getting married, and wouldn’t appreciate him staring like that.

They sat together in the back, drinking quietly, but it wasn’t awkward - silences between them had never been awkward, however rare - his tendency to prattle on made it difficult for even her to stay quiet for too long.

“Wanna hear something funny?” Melinda asked, setting down her empty glass. Phil shrugged. He was out of time and he mostly just wanted to drink right now. Melinda was getting married tomorrow. She’d always teased him for his dramatic tendencies, but he was at a point where he could state that her wedding with another man coincided with the day his life was over. “My mother was talking to me the other day. Said she always thought you and I would get married.”

Phil looked at her, shocked. “Yeah, uh… Funny.” He said, pouring himself another drink.                        

She shrugged. “I didn’t think it was in the beginning - it didn’t think it was that implausible.. You never seemed to take any of my hints, though.” She said. He looked up, staring, barely even noticing that his glass had slipped from his hand, falling to the ground,, smashing into several pieces. Didn’t really care.

“I guess it’s not that ridiculous considering how badly I don’t want you to marry Andrew.”

He could tell Melinda wasn’t sure how to handle this. He knew her. He didn’t blame her because he’d questioned himself so many times - was he ruining her chance at happiness? He knew deep down they were supposed to be together but what if he was wrong? He leaned closer - their shoulders had already been brushing before, and took her hand in his. “Lin…” He said softly, and when she didn’t pull away, leaned down tentatively, pressing his mouth against hers.

It was subtle and took a few seconds but soon she had loosened her mouth and he tenderly sucked her lower lip between his, already dying for more of her. It felt right, and he never wanted to stop. One of his hands went to her waist while the other buried itself in her curls, deepening the kiss and letting his tongue trace the inside of her mouth as she cupped his cheek, kissing him back.

She was kissing him back.

“Melinda? Phil?” Phil felt Melinda pulling away at the sound of someone calling their names and subconsciously tried to follow her, lips almost chasing hers, wanting more.

“Back in a second!” Melinda shouted and he suspected he wasn’t imagining how breathless she sounded. She stood, stepping away from him and he knew his expression had morphed into the one she described as his ‘kicked puppy’ look - the one that meant he was hurt by something.

She ran his thumb over her cheek. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m getting married tomorrow, Phil. You can’t just kiss me like that and expect everything to be okay!” She hissed, shoulders tensing, entire posture changing, and now he knew she was angry.. “I waited for you to make a move for years. I finally gave up and now you want me?”

For years.

For years?

He really was an idiot.

Before he could answer or try to convince her to change her mind, Melinda was gone, and it felt like she’d taken all the air from the room with her.

He had fucked up and missed the slim chance he had with the woman he wanted most in the world. She was marrying someone else tomorrow and he thought he could handle it, but he can’t. He walked back to the huge vineyard they were staying at alone - a harsh reminder of how his life would be after tomorrow, drinking straight from the bottle of fancy Scotch, and proceeded to throw up in the Garner family’s garden before stumbling up to the room they had given him for the duration of the event, and messily packing, sobering up and deciding that he couldn’t stand there and smile while she married someone else, not after she’d kissed him back, not after getting a taste of her. His body shook from the force of his sobs as he booked a flight for the next morning, tears blurring his vision through the entire process, before shooting a quick, likely incomprehensible message off to Clint that he couldn’t do it, and passed out, setting an alarm to wake him before dawn, so that while she was getting married he would be sitting in an uncomfortable seat on a crowded plane.

He tossed and turned throughout the night - both the alcohol and his feelings affecting him. Dreams and reality had all blurred together, and couldn’t be sure if he had been imagining it or someone had really come into the room while he slept, a soothing voice whispering his name and gentle fingers stroking his cheek. Before last night, the hope he had once carried would have tried to convince him that it was real, that there was still good and happiness left for him.

But his hope, his spirit has faded away, disappearing as if it never truly existed.

It had been a dream. Probably the last good dream he’d ever have.

-

It was early in the morning and Phil had turned off his phone after waking up at seven AM to several messages from Clint, Natasha and even Daisy. He hadn’t gotten any from Melinda.

He’d called a cab and left, head in his hands, refusing to turn back, and was now waiting in line at the airport to check his baggage. He took out his wallet, intending to find identification, when a slip of paper fell out onto the ground. He picked it up before it could blow away.

_You mean a lot to me, too. I’m sorry. – MM_

It was Melinda’s handwriting. She must have crept into his room last night. That hadn’t been a dream, then. She’d put this note in his wallet after he’d kissed her, and why did the phrase _‘you mean a lot to me’_ sound so familiar?

Because he’d said it before.

Because when he’d told her the vows he would say to someone else, she’d remembered them.

“I’m sorry. Nevermind. I have to go.” He said, grabbing his suitcase from the stunned airport worker, turning back around and swearing. The cab he’d taken was already gone, and it would take too long to get another cab – by the time it came and dropped him off, he might be too late. He was momentarily distracted by a gorgeous red corvette and the couple leaving it, the man with dark hair and a goatee and looking at the woman – well, the way he looked at Melinda he guessed.

“Are you okay? You look flushed.”

The woman who had left the car had come closer to him, seeming to notice his panic. “I need to get to a wedding. I’m not from here, I might not be able to get there in time.”

The couple looked at each other. “Wait… Are you trying to stop a wedding?” The man asked, seemingly way too much glee in his tone. Phil nodded and he was lucky he had good reflexes because he managed to catch whatever it was that the other man tossed him – a set of car keys.

“Keep ‘em. On our honeymoon, me and my Pep. Stop the wedding and remember to call up Tony Stark – I intend to get an invitation to your wedding in the future.”

Phil’s face broke into a grin. “I will. Thank you!” He shouted getting into the car, and if he’d been able to think of anything other than Melinda he would have realized that that was _the_ Tony Stark. But he had more important matters.  

He abused the speed limit to get to the church, likely running several red lights, and parked on the curb, rushing to enter the church (he really had always been overly dramatic), pushing open the doors with all his strength. A sea of unfamiliar faces, and some he definitely recognised, like the classic shit-eating grin of Clint, turned towards him, but all his vision was narrow, and all he could see was Melinda, standing at the altar in her big white wedding dress, hand in hand with Andrew.

“Phil.” She said, gritting her teeth, and he could tell that he had well and truly pissed her off this time.

He came up to the altar, standing on the step below her. “I tried to leave. I really tried. But I got your note and I came back and I’m not leaving.” He said. She looked like she was about to interrupt but he shook his head. “Please, just let me talk. I was an idiot. I wasted twenty years with you as my best friend not realizing that I can’t bear to live without you. I can’t leave you here while I go back home or see you marry someone else. It hurts too damn much. And I want you to be happy and maybe I’m wrong but deep down I think maybe neither of us will be happy if we’re not together. And I love you and I was an idiot and – “

And suddenly she was kissing him, and none of it mattered.

The room was shocked into silence as they kissed, his hand freeing her hair from the complicated knot someone had obviously painstakingly pulled into into earlier, and hers grabbing his jacket as if to pull him closer. He groaned as her tongue delved into his mouth, not even caring that he was kissing another man’s fiancée

on their wedding day. Again she she was the one to pull back, this time smiling and – was Melinda May _blushing?_

He grinned and she punched his shoulder. “Dork.” She muttered. She turned and moved towards Andrew hugging him. “I’m… I’m really sorry. But I can’t do this.” She said. He nodded and looked at Phil, expression morphing from one of resignation to… was he… was he smiling?.

“I think I kind of figured that out.” He said, grin widening, stepping up to Phil and –

Ouch.

Phil rubbed at his jaw where Andrew had just punched him. “I guess I kind of deserved that.” He said, wincing. Andrew walked away as Phil smiled at Melinda, who was regarding him with an affectionate look he had rarely seen before.

She cupped his bruised jaw gently, fingers dancing over the worst of it and kissed him again. This time they’re both smiling, and she takes his hand, their fingers intertwining. “We've waited around forever. I think that's long enough.”


End file.
